


Future Dreams

by I_am_not_your_bro



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_not_your_bro/pseuds/I_am_not_your_bro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is a creature that requires stability, but he slips when his games take a hold of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in a while, although I'm no stranger to angsty-slash- this is the first Ryden I've written. I know it's not really slash, this was more of a rant-through-fanfic. I'd greatly appreciate feedback.

He'd never thought he'd get to this point, sitting alone on his sofa with his world around him in boxes. Music is playing through the speakers next to the wall and the bass throbs through his head. His head is tipped up to face the window behind him, and the dove grey clouds that smother the glass suffocate his thoughts.

Ryan thought that he was always too scared to do anything about the shadows in his mind; that as long as he had fear, he had survival. But the fear had deserted him to a point where all he had was loneliness. He was empty, filled only with the bass of whatever song was playing. The boxes that sat around him contained memories of times he couldn't remember. Happier times, of a childhood filled with innocence- even throughout his father's behaviour. He'd always had that generic innocence.

Then, at some point during his teenage years, the innocence melted away. Hell, he was still a teenager. He was just too mature for his age. Thoughts of what he had to do with life filtered through. Ryan was a creature that required stability in life, and being in a band did not bring that.

Throughout his life, Ryan had lived in the same house, with the same parent, same best friend and same schedule. It had been an exciting change when him, Spencer, Brent and Trevor had formed the band. Then Trevor left and was replaced by Brendon. Brendon, who changed everyone for better and for worse. He brought with him a beautiful voice, and hope that maybe the band could actually go somewhere beyond a basement. For a while, Ryan's fear of the future fluttered under a veil of hope. Without him noticing, he didn't need to cry to Spencer at 3am about how fucking scared he was and listen to Spencer's usual spiel about how they were all gonna be okay and everybody has to do it someday. Suddenly, Ryan didn't have to try not to cry when he completed another exam in school, because he had hope.

Brendon was that beacon that Ryan needed.

Not long after Ryan had written the third song for the band, Pete Wentz - actual Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy - spoke to Ryan about the band. A few weeks later, and Pete Wentz was in Spencer's Grandma's basement, talking to a hyperactive Brendon Urie. Ryan remembers watching the two talk and thinking about how stupid Brendon looked in his baby blue t-shirt that was just that bit too short and red glasses. He also remembers looking down at his own dark purple t-shirt, noting the two inches of white skin that separated his black jeans and the cotton of his best shirt; and thinking that his hipbones stuck out more than they used to. That was the first sign.

In Maryland, recording was terrible. Everybody was bitching and after several weeks, nothing creative could come out of anyone. It was then that Ryan noticed more and more things about everything. He'd compare how much he'd eaten to everyone else, because he favoured the shadows under his bones more than conversation over the dinner table. He'd mope in the dark corner of his bunk with a notebook, writing lines of reasons not to kill himself when he was happy, just so he could feel something. It took a while for him to notice that this wasn't normal, even for a writer. No longer were his lyrics full of hate towards Jac, but they were directed towards himself. That was the day he read through his notebooks and changed every 'myself' to 'her' and every 'I' to 'she'. The album wasn't his best and he hated it before they were finished.

The only person who knew anything about any of this was Brendon, and Ryan felt it was alright that way. He noticed the concerned glances flicked at him from across the room. Once or twice, Brendon spoke to Ryan when he thought he was asleep.

Ryan reveled in the attention he got from the newest addition to the band. Unlike Spencer and Brent, Brendon didn't know everything about Ryan. Therefore, Ryan became an injured gazelle in Brendon's mind- beautiful and tortured.

After the tight enclosure of Maryland, Ryan felt alone. He clung to Brendon instead of Spencer in the dark nights, because he felt as if Spencer's repetitive drone of "it's gonna be okay" etc was getting old. Ryan told himself he was fine with being a douche, and told Brendon his darkest 'secrets'. He embellished, and unconsciously convinced himself that they were true.

After several weeks, the album was released. The band got hate, and Ryan let it 'get to him'. Tour dates were set, and Brendon got old.

Secretly, Ryan admits that he was attracted to the singer. Or perhaps it was the attention he gave Ryan. The adoration. The worship.

Now, Ryan is alone. He resents his entire band, including himself. He is both Dr Frankenstein and his hideous creation. A cruel being. A user. This will be the last time he sits on his sofa and looks out at those oppressing grey clouds. The air pressure is crushing, and so is the helplessness within.

He's milked the injured musician to it's last breath, and the old fear of instability creeps back. The bass thumps and Ryan feels like he's been here so long his heart beat has joined the _bumpbumpbump_ of the song. It dislodges his head and he can't do anything but wish he wasn't here.


End file.
